


betrayal

by bonebo



Series: McReyes Week '16 [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8676835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: They barely manage to make it back to Gabriel’s room before everything spirals out of control.





	

They barely manage to make it back to Gabriel’s room before everything spirals out of control.

Jesse’s hands on him--down his neck, across his chest, grabbing his hips--share Jack’s warmth but not his force; there are no bruises left in Jesse’s wake, no nails leaving tracks down his skin. It’s almost overwhelming, and Gabriel finds himself bracing for the pain, expecting it, as Jesse walks them backward, toward the bed in the corner of Gabriel’s room.

(Submission has been put upon him--was given willingly in the beginning, before it became a forced thing, then habit. If Jesse is surprised to find his Commander yielding to the way he pushes and guides his body, he doesn’t show it.)

It’s almost strange--but Gabriel hasn’t considered in a long time the notion that sex can be so sweet. There’s no teeth marking his neck like property, no nails leaving his skin gouged and bleeding, no growled orders for him to strip; instead it’s fingers tracing down the column of his throat, kisses over his jaw and cheek that are all softness, all lip. There’s some minor discomfort as Jesse’s scruffy beard scrapes lightly over Gabriel’s chest, when he peels away the layers his Commander wears and kisses each inch of newly-exposed flesh--but even in that he’s reverent, thoughtful, every article of clothing being gently set aside like a warm memory.

The clothes that still cover Gabriel’s frame--his undershirt, his jeans, his boxers--are given an appreciative stare, felt by Jesse’s roaming fingertips. His gaze darts up to Gabriel’s, silently seeking permission to take away what remains between them.

And Gabriel grants it to him, every time. Always with the thought in mind that the next time is the time he’ll tell Jesse to stop--until there are no times left, and he’s left naked. Vulnerable. Dread claws at his throat, panic seizes his chest, stills his lungs; what is he thinking? Jack will be furious.

“Jesse...” He hates how his voice is a choked, whiny thing, desperate; but the hands that come to gently cup his face, thumbs tracing his scars, are not full of hate. Jesse’s kisses are not harsh. There is no hand around his throat and no anger in the eyes that meet his own. Everything is so damn nice, so surreal, that he’s sure he’s dreaming--he’s going to wake up next to Morrison, come morning, with a sore ass and new bruises and a desperate need for some sign that the Golden Boy still loves him--

“Shh.” Jesse’s voice is deep and soothing, a foil to Jack’s harsh, gravelly tenor. Jesse’s callouses are softer as his hands move against Gabriel’s skin in slow circles, mapping out his body--memorizing the lines of scars old and new, tracing the hard lines of his muscles. Calm, in everything. “Gabriel, I’ve got you. Ain’t gonna let nothing hurt you, not even me. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Gabriel squirms and hates how shy he’s feeling, like he’s a teenager again, sneaking into his bedroom to fuck while his parents watch TV. He swallows and finds his mouth dry, and tries to ignore looking down at his hand--knows if he sees the band there, the tangible promise of the vows he made years ago, he’ll stop everything.

And right now, the last thing he wants is for this to end.

“I need you naked, too,” is what he says, looking up at Jesse with a new kind of urgency, a hungry desire that’s not shown its face in years. He grabs at Jesse’s flannel and realizes that maybe Jack’s anger isn’t the only reason the relationship is failing.

“You got it, boss.” There’s no argument when Jesse slips away a little, shucking his own clothing off with a practiced efficiency. Gabriel watches and finds himself mesmerized by the expanses of skin he’s shown, the soft stretch of Jesse’s belly, the dark hair that covers his chest and stomach and shoulders.

He’s still just a distraction--but as beautiful as they come.

Later, when they’ve both finished, Jesse stays long enough to share a cigar. Then Gabriel demands his leave, and returns back to the bed--now cold, suddenly much too big--telling himself it means nothing.

He falls asleep to dreams of golden cuffs and collar, choking his breath and keeping his hands useless. Betrayal lingers, ever-present, in the back of his mind, as he drowns in seas of frosty blue.


End file.
